All I Dream About
by KaosCumberbatch
Summary: Hamish was eight when he was diagnosed with cancer. - "If he should die tonight, every single part of me will die with him." "If he should die tonight, then we shall all die together." - Prepare for feels (and movie references).
1. Chapter 1

It is in times like these when we try to hide

our feelings. We try to stay strong for the

people around us. We try to comfort

them when we are the ones who

need it most. We try

to build them up but we cannot.

Not when we are unable to even hold ourselves up.

Hamish was eight when he was diagnosed with cancer. It was slowly eating away at him. At his body. At his mind. At his heart.

Six months ago he was playing rugby with his friends. He was working with his parents and solving cases with them. He was doing everything any normal eight-year-old would do. He was so happy then, always smiling. There was nothing anyone could say or do that would tear him down. Now, looking at him, he was a stranger to most. He was no longer truly happy. He would act it, put on a face for family visits, but it was never real. How could a little boy in a hospital bed be truly happy?

Sherlock and John had spent many sleepless nights in that hospital room. They had hoped day after day that Hamish would beat it. He had put up a good fight, but his chances were slim. And he knew it. He knew it would take a miracle to pull through, but he stayed positive for his family.

One of these nights, Sherlock insisted that John go back to the flat and get some sleep. Hamish was barely hanging on now. He was sleeping and Sherlock sat next to his bed, holding his hand. He had been sitting like this for a long time. A tear escaped and rolled down his face. It was his first tear in years. He had tried to stay strong for John and for Hamish, but he knew his son did not have long and he could not hold himself together much longer.

"Hamish, you are my life. You are everything to me. You and your father have made me who I am. I would do anything for you." Sherlock's heart dropped to his stomach as he forced out the rest.

"I love you, son."

He fell asleep holding his sons small hand, as he had for countless nights, hoping for a miracle. Hoping that his pride and joy, the one person who had made him happy above all else, would make it.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock woke up to the doctors and nurses rushing about like they usually do. John was sitting in a chair across the room trying to read but his mind was racing. Hamish was still sleeping and hadn't moved since the night before.

"How is he?"

"Fine, I suppose."

"Sherlock…"

John stood up and walked over to him. He took Sherlock's hand in his and tried to meet his eyes but Sherlock kept staring at Hamish.

"He'll be fine, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at John with red eyes. His throat felt small and he swallowed hard.

"Can you promise me, John?"

John's face fell. He was doubtful, as they all were, and replied with a sigh.

"No, Sherlock. I cannot."

John could feel his tears coming. He grabbed Sherlock's chin and planted a soft kiss to his lips. He could tell Sherlock was about to lose it. He bent down and kissed their son's forehead and left to go to the bathroom. He didn't want Sherlock to know, but he felt sick. He had felt sick for weeks. His stomach was in knots constantly. He threw up for the second time that day.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock had not left his son's side for weeks. He had not eaten in days. It was ripping him apart. John could see past the wall he had built years ago to hide his feelings and keep people out, but Sherlock did not notice what John had felt. It had hit John just as hard, but he was determined to strong for both of them. Many of his friends had died in the army. Back then he had built his own wall. He did the same thing now, but this was different. This was his son. He could not put up his act much longer.


	4. Chapter 4

John headed back to the room and he could hear Sherlock talking to Hamish softly. His words did not come out as they usually did, with confidence and a hint of conceit. His voice was weak. John stayed out of sight and listened.

"... the best thing that's ever happened to me. It's only been nine years. Every single one of them was amazing and I would not trade one second of that time for the world. I remember when you took your first step. Your first day of school. I remember when your father taught you how to play rugby and when you solved your first case… I am sorry that-"

Sherlock's voice croaked and he started crying again.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't always be there when you needed me."

John hadn't noticed his own tears until now.

"It had never crossed my mind that I wouldn't see you grow up. I'll never see you go to college. I'll never see you get married or have a family of your own. I never thought this would happen. I am so sorry."

John couldn't breathe. He walked into the room and Sherlock looked up, surprised. John's face was red and streaked from tears.

"John…"

Sherlock got up and went to him, hugging him tightly. John had hidden all of what he felt but now he couldn't control himself. There, in room C494 of The Royal Marsden, he lost it. He fell limp in Sherlock's arms and held tightly to his neck, using him for support, as he looked at their son. The boy who he had dreamed about his whole life. The boy who had been his whole world since he was placed in his arms. It had been nine years, but now it felt like seconds.

"It's not fair, Sherlock…"


	5. Chapter 5

Hamish was sleeping again. Sherlock sat next to his bed and John in the corner, sipping the coffee he didn't really want. A nurse came in and asked to talk to John privately. John stood up and stepped out into the hallway.

"Mr. Watson?"

"Yes?"

"Your son…" She sighed a little before continuing. She always dreaded this part. "We're going to need you and your-" She flipped a paper on her clipboard. "You and Mr. Holmes to make a decision."

John swallowed hard. "What is it?" He choked out the words and his voice was shaking.

"Your son needs to be put on life support or he won't make it more than a week."

John's throat burned and his stomach seemed to twist inside of him. He felt dizzy and for a moment he was speechless.

"Of course." He felt tears stinging his eyes. "I understand." His heart was pounding and he looked at his shoes, breathing deeply. The nurse put her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Watson."

John nodded and went back into the room. Sherlock looked up as he entered.

"What did she say?"

John felt himself getting hot. The room was spinning. His stomach ached and he felt as though he would be sick if he even opened his mouth to speak.

"John, tell me."

His legs became weak and he fell to the floor, running his hands through his hair, wanting to pull it out but not finding the strength.

"John-" Sherlock had already jumped up and knelt by his side. "John, it's okay."

John crouched on the floor, unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Then they heard it. A small voice coming from the bed. Both their hearts jumped at the sound.

"Daddy?"


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock quickly helped John up and into the chair in the corner.

"Yes, Hamish?"

"Is Papa okay?"

John sat down, quickly composing himself and wiping his tears from his cheeks. "I'm fine, Hamish. I promise."

Sherlock went to his seat next to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I suppose. Just a little tired still."

Sherlock put a hand on his son's forehead and forced a smile.

"I bet. Go back to sleep."

Hamish's face fell. "Daddy, when can I go home?"

Sherlock's heart broke and he glanced over at John.

"Soon, Hamish. Very soon." Still, he forced a smile.

Hamish smiled back and closed his eyes again.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sherlock, we need to talk."

"What about?" He asked, not looking up.

"About Hamish." Sherlock went stiff, but did not move. "And about what the nurse said."

Sherlock lifted his head. "What did she say?"

"Sherlock…" John went over and took his hands. "Sherlock, she said he has a week unless we put him on life support."

Sherlock's heart dropped. He looked at Hamish and all the memories flooded his head. There were tears burning in his eyes.

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

He didn't reply for a long while and when he did his voice was small, like that of a child afraid of the dark.

"We can't do that to him. There's no point."

"Sherlock-" John started to speak but Sherlock interrupted.

"Go and tell them! Tell them and ask how much longer he has!"

John sighed and walked out. Sherlock's anger had turned to sadness. He felt a tear roll down his cheek, never taking his eyes off of Hamish.

Sherlock had spent many nights there in that damned chair. Sitting. Watching. This night he didn't even sleep. He sat there, staring at his son, holding his small hand the entire night.


	8. Chapter 8

Hamish woke up the next morning and asked Sherlock to get him something to eat. He and John were alone in the room.

"Papa…?"

"Yes?" John walked over and took Sherlock's usual seat next to the bed.

"Why were you crying the other day?"

"Oh, it's nothing," he said softly. "I'm alright."

Hamish looked at him with tears in his eyes. "Am I going to die?" His lip shook as he spoke.

"No. You're not going to die." It took everything in him not to burst into tears. They both looked up as Sherlock came back and handed Hamish his food.

"Papa, I'm afraid," he whispered as John stood up.

"Hamish, it's going to be alright. We'll be going home soon." He hated lying to him like that, but they didn't have much of a choice. He took Hamish's hand and kissed his forehead. "Be strong." He said it to Hamish, but it was also to Sherlock and himself. Hamish closed his eyes and sighed.

"I love you, Papa."

John was choked up. He struggled with the words and forced them out.

"I love you, too, Hamish. I always will."

Hamish smiled. A few moments later he opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too."

He closed his eyes again. Sherlock was crying and spoke so softly that John could barely hear.

"You are everything to me, Hamish. You are my whole life and you have been since I first saw you. There are so many things I've wanted to tell you but haven't gotten the chance. I am so proud of you. I love you more than anything in this world. I wish… I wish it were me, lying in that bed. I wish I could help you. I wish there was something I could do."


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock and John sat and waited. They knew Hamish would not wake the next morning. Suddenly, Sherlock looked up.

"If he should die tonight, every single part of me will die with him."

John stood up and went to him. He hugged Sherlock and whispered, "If he should die tonight, then we shall all die together."

They stayed there a long time, listening to Hamish's heart monitor beat every couple of seconds. It slowed a bit and suddenly it stopped. There was a single tone going on and on, never ending. John buried his face in Sherlock's shoulder and sobbed until he couldn't anymore, clutching his shirt in his fist.

The doctors all rushed in at one, but they hardly noticed. All they cared about was each other and their son. Everything stopped. The sounds of monitors and doctors and nurses faded, as if they were under water. They held each other tightly as if one of them would just drift away. As if one of them would fade into nothingness and they would be left to face the world alone. And that terrified them the most.

So they stood together, crying and whispering with shaking breaths, each secretly wanting to die. To just lay down, shut his eyes… and fade.

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><p>"What do I care for life when you are dead?"<p> 


	10. Epilogue

Well, here we are. the whole 10 days it took to upload this fic. I just want to make it clear that I spent a lot more time on this than you may think. No, it's not my finest work with language and detail. But I do like the storyline and this last chapter has some poetic elements. AND SOMEHOW IT ENDS SORT OF HAPPILY. Which isn't what I had planned/wanted. Prepare for Hobbit and TFiOS references. Anyway, here it is. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. IT STILL NEEDS A TITLE *cough* comment ideas for that *cough* And also, I hope you stick around and see how you fancy my other fics. Thank you all for reading (and probably wasting valuable time on) my fic. 20 and 4. Love, Kaos.

Is it an epilogue or just a chapter 10? I don't know.

* * *

><p>They never went together. They would go alone, in secret. Each of them thinking the other never went. Sherlock would go sometimes when John was at work. He usually said nothing. He just stood there, looking at his son's name in stone.<p>

It was spring when they went together for the first time since the funeral. The trees had regained their leaves and some had lightly colored flowers hanging down off the branches. The grass was green and a slight breeze made each blade sway gently. They stood in silence, looking down at the stone with their hands in their pockets. The gentle rustling sound of the leaves filling their heads where quiet memories did not mutter. They were there for a while before John spoke. His voice was low and soft.

"It doesn't feel real. Like those dreams you wake up from and forget all the details. But you know it was a good dream. A dream that was free of all the pain you felt as you fell asleep and the pain that is almost guaranteed when you wake up. And you try to fall asleep again to continue that dream…"

Sherlock looked at John as he paused. "But it never works. You fall asleep to something new." Sherlock looks back down as he continues, "And it doesn't even numb the pain. Not even for a few seconds."

John nodded, his eyes red with tears.

"Nine years is a long time, John."

"It's not nearly long enough."

"I know. I want more days for Hamish than what he got. But I am thankful for our little infinity."

John closed his eyes tightly as more tears ran down his face, eventually falling on the swaying grass. He turned and started walking away, never lifting his face.

Sherlock glanced back at John before resting his hand on top of the stone bearing his little boy's name. A tear formed in the corner of his eye as he whispered, "I'll always remember you. Remember me… But remember my better side. I love you."

He sighed before turning and walking after John. He caught up, grabbed John's arm, and spun him around. He was surprised to see John's face so red and his eyes so filled with tears. Sherlock hugged him tightly, feeling his warm, shaking breaths on his neck. He pulled back and put his hands on John's shoulders.

"He is far away. He is far, far away from us. He walks in starlight in another world. Where there is no pain.

John stared at him, still crying. Sherlock took his hand and started walking slowly through the trees and stones and benches.

"I have walked there sometimes. Beyond this city and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light forever fill the air. It's dark for a moment. And then you see it."

John stopped and looked up into Sherlock's eyes. "See what, Sherlock?"

He smiled softly as he spoke. "White shores. Dark blue waves caressing the edge of the land and reflecting the moon. You look up and, if you're lucky, you'll see a shooting star. For a moment, you'll think that there's nothing to wish for. You think that nothing in life could be better. So you sit in the sand and you look up at the moon and memories start coming back. You remember everything. So you wish for an army doctor somewhere in London. That he might sleep through the nights and find joy in something."

John smiled and stood on his toes to press his lips to Sherlock's. He pulled away and kept hold of Sherlock's hand as they walked back home.


	11. Second Epilogue

**Author's Note: **So the first epilogue was supposed to be the end but I thought I'd add a few more things… Who even has a second epilogue? Like what kind of freak am I? Whatever.

* * *

><p>"We see the same moon, you and I." John whispered as he looked out over the water. He shook his head as he watched the night sky. His vision was blurry from tears. "Ten years later and it hurts as bad as that first night. I can't remember a night your father hasn't cried himself to sleep."<p>

He fell to his knees and sobbed, his heart on fire.

After a long while he took a deep breath and looked up again at the moon. Big and brilliant, the only light in the darkness.

"You're still all I think about. All I dream about."


End file.
